Moon Dance
by SpookyMormonHellDream
Summary: Modern One-Shot, E/C. My entry to A Very Merry Phantom Christmas One-Shot Contest and winner of the "Best Modern" category! Summary: Two lonely hearts have found their way to one another, and one significant revelation beneath a bright Christmas Eve moon will leave them with the continued assurance that they will no longer have to face either their pain or their joys alone.


**Author's Note:** _Hello again, and I hope everyone is enjoying their holiday season! I know I am. :D So, here is my latest little piece just in time for me to go on my winter break. Some of y'all expressed interest in seeing what happened to Christine and Erik after "To the Stars," so here it is, my darlings! Also, this is my official submission to the PotO Christmas One-Shot Contest - I repeat, for the record: **My Entry for A Very Merry Phantom Christmas One-Shot Contest** hosted by the kind and wonderful Not A Ghost 3! Thank you again, Not A Ghost 3, for doing this contest! As I've stated and will continue to do so throughout this process, this contest is such a wonderful idea and I'm so glad to be a part of it this year! Anywhoodles, productivity aside, general reminder that while "To the Stars" preceded "Moon Dance," this current work is its own thang and is written as a stand-alone piece, so if you have not read the Thanksgiving story, don't worry, you'll still get everything you need here. Feels and then some! Welp, without further ramblings from me, I present to you the Phic! Disclaimer: I own nothing. So there ya go. Remember to read, review, and most of all enjoy! _

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Moon Dance

Christmas Eve, 2016 - New York City

Christine Daae

Erik arrived at my apartment on Christmas Eve just after sunset, and upon opening my front door to grant him entry while I finished preparing to leave with him, I couldn't help smiling broadly at the sight of him. Dressed in black and standing tall before me, he struck me yet again as rather elegant in both his appearance and his demeanor, attractive yet entirely without the will to admit as much to himself. He would deny it when I broached the subject, of course - would sincerely wonder aloud to me what I saw in him, how I could see past his deformity and view him in a positive light - and I knew that simple words could not convince him of how I felt. Not yet; it was all still too new to him. But I would never tire of trying to convince him that he was worth caring for - that in body and spirit he had captured my heart so soundly - and I smiled at him regardless of his disbelief, feeling giddy in his presence and my thoughts excited by what as yet unknown pleasures the night had in store for us. We had planned to spend the evening alone at Central Park, simply walking close together against the cold, reflecting upon our good fortune and reveling in one another's company all the while. I was looking forward to the experience.

It had been years since I had actively sought any kind of outing for the holiday - years since I had opened my heart enough to spend the day with anyone that mattered to me - but this year was different. For so long had I found myself stoically and intentionally alone during the holiday season that I had come to acknowledge and accept this phenomenon as a simple fact of my life. But once Erik and I came together under our unexpected and unlikely circumstances, I found myself looking forward to the festivities more than I had in years. And although he never outright voiced his thoughts on the matter, I sensed that on some level he did as well. While I knew that Erik had never been keen on celebrations to begin with, it seemed that he and I were equally intent on testing the waters of our newly-dedicated relationship by observing Christmas in some capacity, if not simply for the sake of seeing if we could. At first I was surprised that he made the suggestion to begin with. Beyond the necessities of his work composing for the Met, he rarely if ever appeared in public, too self-conscious of his mask and all too aware of how the curiosity of people can quickly give way to cruelty. But he made the gesture for my sake, understanding the loneliness that had followed me for so long in the wake of my father's untimely death; in turn, I had hoped to return the favor with the understanding that past years had not been kind to him. Knowing that, it meant the world to me that he was willing to venture outside of our private world in an effort to make our first holiday meaningful after so recently committing to a serious relationship with one another.

It had been a month to the day since he and I shared those first fateful kisses - just one month since the truths of our mutual attraction passed between us in the cold night air to finally compel us to come together in spite of so many hurdles to be overcome for us both. But even in such a short time, I had grown more grateful to have met him with each passing day. Although the Thanksgiving dinner we had shared had begun awkwardly - disastrously so, even - in the end I could not bring myself to regret taking that leap of faith in asking for his presence alongside me that night. Not when the outcome had been so favorable. We were two people almost entirely alone in the world, and without some sort of intervention I do not doubt that we would have remained that way indefinitely. It seemed that we were well-suited for each other, a mutual respect and attraction for one another gradually coming about over time and growing stronger with each day spent together. Moreover, I had wanted very badly to make up for so carelessly hurting him all those weeks before - to somehow heal the hurt that I had unwittingly inflicted upon his fragile spirit by removing his mask without his consent and ultimately shattering the tentative trust and friendship that had slowly built up between us since our first meeting. To my immense joy, my efforts were not in vain; in spite of the turmoil we shared, when it was all said and done neither of us could deny the significant change that occurred in our hearts - in how we regarded one another. And at his timid request, we were a couple from then on, moving on together into the unknowns of a relationship that neither of us had expected yet each had become so grateful to know.

We spent as much of our time together as possible, dividing our days between our respective employment at the Metropolitan Opera House and stealing shared moments of togetherness when the endless hours of working concluded. It was a joy to simply _be_ together, retreating to either of our apartments to share long kisses, to speak softly into the night about everything and nothing, to simply exist in one another's presence. In these last weeks, I'd noticed a change in him; it was subtle - almost invisible to anyone else that did not know him well - but there all the same. He carried himself in a more peaceful, contented manner when we were alone together - an element of his character that had only whispered its presence before. When at the beginning he seemed to find himself in awed disbelief that we had actually forged a way to one another - that I could possibly be _willing_ to share my heart with him at all - with time he seemed to accept our relationship as fact and not a cruel trick of the heart. And while he was still prone to occasional bouts of apprehension where I was concerned, on the whole his generally stoic and doubtful manner had been significantly subdued. I had known only the barest details of the hurt he had known in his life - of the pain he had endured at the hands of his disfigurement - but I knew that such pain had resonated within him deeply, and for far too long. And although a part of me knew that the echoes of his past would never truly fade entirely, when we were together it seemed that his steadily acquired mistrust and darkest memories were put to rest for a time - that he _was_ indeed happy.

I was glad to see that in him, to know that I had contributed even a hint of my confidence to that sense of wellbeing. Whether or not I was a part of his world, in spite of what he believed, he deserved to live a good life. He was a remarkable man in so many ways, an enigmatic treasure that never failed to capture my heart each time he held my hand, each time he looked into my eyes or smiled at me with his unfailing tenderness. I couldn't imagine my life without his presence - not anymore. We had shared so much even before we became a couple, and had so much of life to experience together now; there was no other place I wanted to be than by his side. And over time, I began to realize that I was falling in love with him more every day. I smiled inwardly to myself as I reflected upon these irrevocable facts, sure that the day would soon come that it would be appropriate to share my heart's secrets with him. In the meantime, I was content simply to be in his company, especially this night.

Tying my scarf around my neck and gathering up my gloves, I met Erik's eyes as he held out my winter coat to me, ever the gentleman. He proceeded to take my arm and lead me through the front door, each of us finally ready to embark on our first Christmas Eve together. He drove us to our destination, opting to brave the crowded and snowy roads himself in lieu of experiencing the discomfort and awkwardness of a taxi or some other form of public transportation. And although he had been recaptured by his usual state of restlessness at the prospects of being so exposed that night, he spoke with me easily during the ride, allowing his defenses to come down within the comforting confines of his car in favor of our shared enjoyment. I felt very sentimental regarding the whole affair - he had reached over the center console to take my hand, and all the while I observed that the night around us was alive with the heartbeat of the city as we drove, the glow of streetlights and buildings shimmering against the soft snowfall as passersby made their jaunts up and down sidewalks. Time seemed to take on an ethereal quality, and for a moment I felt as if I was seeing the city I called home with new eyes. It truly was a breathtaking sight. Before we knew it, the sharp angles of skyscrapers and prudently designed streets gave way to the open air above Central Park, and by then we were more than ready to pass through its gates.

We walked together for a time, aimless in our progress and relatively carefree as the snow-covered grass and frosted pathways wound their way around us, the environment softly illuminated by the surrounding city streets and twinkling Christmas lights in equal measure. Our breath came before us in wispy plumes as what would prove to be the last few snowflakes of the night drifted to the ground, but on the whole we paid the cold no mind. Instead, Erik draped his arm over my shoulder in a gesture of mingled protection and fondness, and in response I held him as tightly with my arm securely around his back. Only recently had casual physical contact lost its daunting effect on him, and I was sincerely enjoying showing him those unspoken reminders of my affection for him. He, in turn, had grown braver in his own right, initiating contact more often and no longer fearing my rejection should he ask for it. I was grateful for that bravery now as we walked contentedly in each other's embrace. As we continued our journey, we remained huddled close against the steady and frigid breeze, and an easy silence stretched between us. He would occasionally squeeze my shoulder affectionately, and I would smile in kind as my heart would skip a beat each time he returned the expression.

Some time later we found ourselves slowing our careful footsteps over the slick pathways and stopping entirely at a cluster of benches to take a break. The snow had stopped falling completely by then, and in its wake beneath the veil of churning clouds was a Jazz ensemble that had settled in for the evening - a group that I did not recognize but immediately commended for their obvious talent and showmanship.

Several other people - various couples and groups of families, by the looks of them - had stopped to enjoy the music as well, though not without sidelong glances in our direction. I gripped Erik's hand reassuringly as he stiffened and tilted the masked side of his face away from anyone that might potentially stare at him. He scoffed angrily at the handful of puzzled second glances his mask inevitably received, but even so he smiled gratefully at my gesture. Not for the first time I wished simply for him to have just a few peaceful moments in which he did not feel fear or embarrassment, but I was glad that my unspoken support had reached him just the same. For the time being, he had resettled easily enough - although whether that was for my sake or simply out of his own stubbornness, I could not say - and I breathed a sigh of relief on his behalf as he began speaking to me again. Soon enough, his grasp on my hand had relaxed from its recent tension and he moved closer to me. He seemed as at ease as he could be in public once more, absently tapping rhythms with his free hand and identifying in hushed tones the songs in the setlist combining Christmas music and Jazz pieces. I smiled at the performance and then back at my companion. He truly did seem to be enjoying himself after that brief moment of unpleasantness, and it made my heart soar to be reminded once again that experiencing such peace of mind was now occurring to both of us for the first time in many otherwise lonely years.

Enough clouds had been brushed away by the wind by then that I could see the moon peeking out brilliantly against the dark sky, and I looked up at its steady glow, sighing contentedly.

"It's so bright," I said, nodding toward the sky, "I wish we could see more stars, though."

Erik looked in the direction of my gaze as he spoke, "I know you do, sweetheart. But I'm afraid that's impossible here. You can't see them in any city, really. New York, Los Angeles, Paris. It's all the same."

I nodded in resigned acceptance, expecting no different answer, then asked after a brief silence, "Do you miss Paris?"

He thought for a moment and shrugged, "Some aspects of it, sure. But New York suits me just as well. I think I like it here a bit more, anyway."

"So do I," I said, then laughed softly, "Although, I haven't travelled too far. I think my frame of reference might be a bit limited."

" _That_ can easily be changed," he said determinedly, seeming quite proud of his sudden declaration, "Someday, I'll take you anywhere you want to see. We could even go to Paris and rediscover my roots, if you wanted to," he added with a sly grin.

"I think that's a fine idea. We'll have a vacation," I said, only half-teasing and excited that we were building these fanciful dreams together, even if they never came true, "And you can take a break from the theatre. For a little while you won't have to worry about meeting deadlines and dealing with directors," then adding pointedly, "Or _ruining_ your health by composing all night."

"Oh, I'll still be composing," he declared as he tapped his temple, "It's always going."

I sighed but smiled just the same, "Well, I guess that's the life of an artist. My poor, put-upon genius. But I know I won't convince you to rest."

"No, probably not. But still, I rather like the idea of going off someplace with you. Just the two of us. I'll compose, and you can be my muse."

Smiling my approval at his words while still inspired by the levity between us, I put my hand to my heart dramatically, "My goodness, Erik Blanchard, you charm me."

He laughed, "I certainly hope so. It's the least I can offer you."

"You offer me more than you know just by being with me," I said, quickly growing serious.

He half-smiled at that, but said no more for a time. Rather, he pulled me closer to his side, holding me firmly against him as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. In that moment I knew that, although I was sure that he had decided that he could not properly respond just then, my words had reached him. Slowly but surely, I was determined that he would understand and believe in all the goodness I saw in him.

Park-goers continued to amble down pathways as we had done earlier in the evening, some glancing up at the sky and questioning the arrival of more snow, others chattering over or dancing to the music. The notes whirled through the air like so many snow flurries before them, lost on the wind only to be immediately replaced by successions of powerful bursts of song. It was an idyllic scene, tranquil yet alight with an unseen spirit that resonated deeply within all in attendance. At one point, I recognized a Bobby Darin song - a marked difference from the Christmas carol set to a contemporary arrangement that had just concluded - and I laughed brightly at the ever-eclectic selection of music. Darin might not have been _strictly_ festive, but his song was still pleasant to listen to just the same, and on the whole I was enjoying the creative choices that the band had decided to put forth that night. Still more time passed before Erik sat up straighter and spoke again, pulling me from my reverie.

"Before I forget, I want to give you your gift," he said hesitantly, and by his suddenly guarded expression, a part of me suspected that he was never in danger of forgetting the small box that he slowly withdrew from his pocket. Rather, he was clearly choosing his words and actions very carefully, and I couldn't help wondering what he was up to.

My curiosity was piqued that much more when he handed me a black jeweler's case without elaborating further, and I took it eagerly. I remembered distantly that I had a gift of my own to give him - the parcel safely tucked away back in my apartment - and I nearly began to apologize for leaving it behind. But the mingled look of earnest anticipation and doubt in his eyes stilled my words, and I decided to let the issue lie. I think that he truly believed that I might reject whatever it might be that he had chosen to present to me, but I was determined to encourage his confidence in himself, especially then. There were so many untravelled roads that painted every aspect of our distinctly unique relationship, and more than anything I wanted him to know that he was welcome to take those steps ahead with me at each turn. That Christmas Eve spent in one another's company was more than enough proof of that. At his encouraging nod toward the velvet box in my gloved hands, I opened it to reveal a ring, and I immediately gasped at what I saw. The sapphire set on the gold band sparkled under the light of the lamps that carefully lined the pathways around us, and for a moment I could only stare at the object in disbelief, touched beyond words just then. It certainly was not an engagement ring, yet nor was it just a simple trinket - I knew that Erik had selected the piece of jewelry nestled in its case with great care, that it held a special significance to him.

"It's beautiful," I said softly, finally meeting his eyes expectantly in a silent request for more information. I wanted to know what was in his heart then.

"I don't want to scare you by having you think I'm proposing," he laughed nervously, and I smiled at his humor as he continued, "I know it's too soon for that, of course, but I wanted you to have this, and I think I would have lost my nerve if I'd waited until tomorrow to give it to you," he paused, "I know it's old-fashioned, but I wanted you to have something from me, something meaningful. You mean everything to me, Christine. You did even before we started this relationship, and I'm grateful that we found each other. So I want you to have this, to know that I'm committed to you in whatever happens between us."

"Thank you, Erik," I breathed, overcome by his words and rendered unable to adequately express how much they meant to me. I could only hope that he could see that devotion in my eyes as I removed my glove and held out my left hand to him, "Will you put it on for me?"

He laughed as he took the ring and carefully slipped it on my finger, "Yes. And you're welcome."

I held out my hand and admired it for a moment before replacing my glove, feeling perfectly content with that lovely ring as a small token of affection - content with the words that met the air upon receiving it from the man that held my heart.

"You really _are_ happy that we're together," I observed softly.

He raised his eyebrow at my musing, "I'm appalled that I have ever made you doubt it, if that's what you mean," he laughed, "Of course I am. I love you."

 _I love you._

And there it was.

I turned to him to see him shift his gaze from mine as if he had spoken carelessly. His expression had almost turned apologetic, but that expression alone gave me that much more reason not to doubt the truth of his words. He spoke those three monumental words so easily - with such open honesty - as if he had said them hundreds of times before, and it was impossible to question his sincerity then. There was absolutely no reason to. I was sure that the declaration had been on the tip of his tongue countless times before then - he had only needed the opportune moment to give them a voice, and I was so happy that he had. Even if it hadn't happened quite as he had surely planned, what he said was meant to happen when it had, just as it had. Yes, I had known that I was falling in love with him, and for quite some time I had sensed that he felt the same, yet neither of us had said the words aloud to one another until that moment. I knew that any instance before that night would have been too soon for us both, that the opportunity would come about in due time. It was right, I knew - right to love him and to accept his love in return, whenever he chose to give voice to what his heart whispered to him. But to speak the words before they were meant to become a part of the world _wouldn't_ have been right - everything had to come about in its own time, its own way. I had taken the initiative in making my attraction known to him before. Now, this time around, I knew that he had to speak of his love first; long ago had I determined that when he was ready to speak, I would be able to return those words and every beautiful implication accompanying them. Looking at him beside me then, wearing his ring and holding his hand in mine, I knew without a doubt that he meant his words, and my heart began to pound at the thought.

I reached out and gently turned his head so that he could face me, silently urging him to meet my eyes.

To my relief, he looked at me squarely as I asked, "You do? You love me?"

"Yes," he said confidently if not a bit unsteadily, "I think I have for a long time now."

I smiled as I responded, "I love you, too, Erik."

His eyes widened for a fleeting instant before he composed himself once more. Breathing a laugh against new revelations, he smiled back at me - truly _smiled_ , his bright eyes dancing before me in his exuberance - seeming once and for all to relinquish the hesitation he harbored only moments ago. He took me in his arms tightly, and we remained lost in one another's embrace for a time, each revelling in the warmth and tranquility we shared as the dynamics of our relationship changed once again. He moved to kiss me after a few moments, deeply and slowly; never in my life had I felt so much love, so much tenderness in the arms of another person - I knew he was the only one that could envelope me in those emotions so thoroughly. I smiled against his lips as I wrapped my arms more securely around his neck, and he breathed another laugh into our kiss. When at last we parted, he touched his forehead to mine, eyes closed contentedly yet at the same time as if he feared that the moment had been nothing but a dream. But I wouldn't allow him to continue to hold that fear in his heart, not anymore - no matter how long it took, I would do everything in my power to convince him that what we had was real, that the love we had just declared was his for the taking as much as it was my own. I had no intentions of casting it aside, and I fervently hoped that he could see that now after what we had shared. He kissed me again before moving in favor of us sitting beside each other again, each of us agreeing upon the unspoken decision to allow our minds to catch up to our hearts by rejoining the relative normalcy of holiday festivities.

Once we settled in, I looked back over to the musicians as they continued their set. After a time, I recognized a Van Morrison song - absentmindedly I began to hum along to it, still flying on the wings of the kiss that Erik and I had just shared. He regarded my giddy display with an endearing smile, and I could only laugh at his amusement.

"It's _Moon Dance_. This is one of my favorites," I explained.

He nodded in understanding as a determined, almost playful expression slowly began to play in his eyes. Before I realized what he was doing, he kissed my hand with a theatrical flourish and stood, offering his own in an elegantly formal gesture.

"May I have this dance?" he said, his voice low and alluring as he allowed his native accent to dominate his speech for the moment.

I laughed, "Of course, my dear."

He held me close once I rose to meet him, and we fell perfectly in step with one another. The song continued, its tempo arranged to be subdued and slowed down enough to allow us to dance together easily. Other couples danced around us themselves, each individual lost in some world of their own creation, and Erik and I had fallen just as willingly into that extraordinary and intangible spell. The clouds above had parted that much more by then to give us a better glimpse of the moon, its pale glowing face shining down over the city like an ancient guardian, and in those divine moments nothing else seemed to matter.

I looked into Erik's eyes as we moved together - to us, the world had ceased to exist outside of our moonlit dance and the lilting notes of the music breathing life into the air. He captured my eyes with his own as deeply as I had, seeming enraptured by the significance of these moments. And, acknowledging a sudden thought as if from nowhere, I understood then without a doubt that life was finally ours for the taking, ours to trek hand-in-hand now that we had rediscovered our respective hope. I knew that neither of us would ever be alone again, and I looked forward to what that would truly come to mean with time. It wouldn't always be perfect, of course, the various trials of our pasts would always shape us in some way as we moved on - I wasn't so naive as to believe otherwise - but we would move forward with strengthened resolve simply for the fact that we had finally found each other, that we had fallen in love. That was all that mattered then. Once again, the prospect of the future seemed far less daunting than it had for so long before, even the simple idea of celebrations inspiring joy in the wake of dread. I couldn't have been more grateful than I was in those moments that it was Erik sharing that journey with me - I wouldn't have it any other way, and I knew that he agreed wholeheartedly.

When the song ended, we simply stood before one another, fingers linked affectionately together as we allowed our hands to fall easily to our sides.

"I'm glad that you couldn't wait until tomorrow to give me this ring," I said at length, "I can't imagine a nicer evening than this."

" _I'm_ glad you liked it," he laughed before adding seriously, "You really _d_ o mean everything to me, and I know how long it's been since you've done anything to celebrate Christmas. I meant every word I said to you, and I wanted to make this night memorable to you."

"You have, believe me. Thank you so much, for everything."

He nodded, "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas," I said, kissing him again before saying, "I love you, Erik."


End file.
